


Devil In Your Eye

by MoonShoesReyes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, Fix-It, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonShoesReyes/pseuds/MoonShoesReyes
Summary: Arya Stark and Gendry find each other after the dust settles, and realize that there has been a miscommunication.





	Devil In Your Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I'm back.  
> The title is another song from For the Throne, bc why the fuck not.  
> I added the gendry waters / rivers joke because that was so dumb.  
> uh yea fix it please :) please let the last eps be this :) thanks :) :) :)  
> follow me at @arya-of-house-stank

**Gendry Baratheon**

 

“She’s gone, you know.”

            Gendry startled at the voice, dropping his hammer from where he had been beating a sword senseless, taking out his sorrow.

            He had been in the forge since the sun was low in the morning. The heat distracted him from where he was, who he was there for, what she had said. If he dissociated enough it was almost like he was in King’s Landing, the light beating down on him. He could pretend, for a moment, that he never was so foolish to think that Arya would want to be with him for longer than a night.

            He spun around and any words he had died in his mouth when he saw who was there. Lady Stark, Arya’s sister, stood at the door of the forge, completely comfortable despite her surroundings. She looked wrong, standing in the filth of the forge. As though a lady of her caliber should not be anywhere in proximity to dirt, nevertheless the building full of coal.

            “Lady Stark,” Gendry finally choked out. He habitually averted his eyes, falling back to the role he played at Tobho Mott’s shop. Never look a noble in the eye, always be respectful, never disagree.

            “Lord Baratheon,” Gendry looked up at the name. Sansa had a smile that was bizarrely smug. As though she took some perverse joy at his discomfort of his new title. Maybe Arya and her sister were more alike than he knew.

            “Still not used to that. What can I—” Gendry trailed off, her words catching up with him. “Who’s gone?” he asked, partially feigning ignorance, partially hoping he was wrong.

            Sansa smiled again, knowingly. “My sister, Arya. Are we going to pretend that the two of you don’t know each other?”

            Gendry decompressed, and looked away, back to his work. Of course Sansa knew, Lady Stark knew everything that happened in Winterfell.

            “Will she return?” Gendry dropped the pretense.

            “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. I suppose that would require her saying goodbye, or telling me what she planned.” Sansa entered the forge fully, idly looking at various blades and tools. “I had thought she might have taken you with her. That’s why I’m here.” Gendry’s eyes snapped to the Lady of Winterfell at this, who just raised a single eyebrow in return.

            Apparently Lady Stark saw something in his look, some sorrow that he tried to ignore, because her gaze softened. “She never was one for goodbyes, my sister. Doing so would require admitting that she cared, which she could never do, except with her brothers. And look how that turned out. But, no, never me. She didn’t say goodbye to me at King’s Landing, either.”

            Gendry felt compelled to defend Arya, despite the fact that there was nothing accusatory in Lady Stark’s voice or words. “She didn’t have time, you know. When she left King’s Landing, everything was a rush. She didn’t have time for anything after your father's death – just survival.”

            Sansa raised her brows in question.

            “I was there, when she left King’s Landing. Your father, actually, he arranged for me to be smuggled out, so I wouldn’t be executed, back when I was just Gendry Rivers.”

            “Waters.” Sansa said, eyebrows furrowed.

            “‘Scuse me, my lady?”

            “You were a Waters, not a Rivers. You grew up in King’s Landing, which is a part of the Crownlands, therefore you were a Waters. If you had grown up in the Riverlands, you’d have been a Rivers. Not that it matters much now” Sansa informed Gendry.

            “You’re telling me I’ve been calling myself the wrong thing all my life?”

            “Arya would have known. She learned our history as well as I did.”

            “Yea, well, she probably had a great time laughing at that to herself. Thought I was stupid, that’s for sure.” Gendry muttered, partially to himself.

            “So this dalliance of yours, it’s not new. You’ve loved my sister for some time.” Lady Stark’s look was piercing, scrutinizing. As though she was determining his worthiness for her sister, as though he hadn't already been rejected and left behind.

            Gendry wouldn’t do Arya and his feelings for her the disservice of lying, so he answered honestly. “I’m not sure if I loved her back then, my lady. If I did, it certainly wasn’t as I do now. We were just kids, when I knew her. And we didn’t have time for that. A Stark girl and the last Baratheon bastard? We were always on the run, scared. What I do know is that she was important to me – most important person in the world. Still is, if I’m being honest. I only left because I knew what she didn’t. I knew she needed, that she deserved someone far above my station. She needed an equal. I thought now that I was legitimized things might be – it doesn’t matter. Point is, she’s changed, and I’ve changed. Not much I can do about it now.”

            Sansa stared at Gendry for a moment, face inscrutable. The look was so intense that it made Gendry squirm where he stood.

            Finally, Lady Stark rolled her eyes, and declared, “Arya was right. You are stupid.”

            Whatever Gendry was expecting, this wasn’t it. He could feel his brows knit in confusion. “I’m sorry, I – what?”

            “Do you think Arya has ever cared about titles? If she told you it didn’t matter, it’s because it didn’t. She never wanted to marry a Lord and to have his kids and keep his house. That’s not who she is. Yes, Arya deserves an equal, but not in title, that means nothing to her. She deserves an equal in life – someone who will explore the world with her, who yearns for adventure, like her. Someone who will never hold her back. She never cared about Lords or Ladies or Bastards. Just ask Jon, he's always been her closest brother, no matter his name. If she cared about you, and I do believe she does, it’s because of who you are, not what you’re called. She won’t be caged, Gendry. And being a Lady is a cage, at least to her. Wolves don’t do well in captivity. If this, being a lord, is what you want, you will lose her.”

            Gendry shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck about being a lord. I thought it’s what she wanted, what she deserved.”

            Sansa studied him a moment longer, before leaning towards him. “Then go,” she whispered, almost conspiratorially.

            “What?”

            “Go. She went to King’s Landing, with the Hound. She’s going to kill Cersei. Go after her. But, I warn you – don’t try to stop her. She won’t kill you, but if you get in her way, she won’t hesitate to incapacitate you.” Sansa paused, considering. “Be there for her, Gendry. After she kills Cersei, I mean. She’s being working towards this for so long, I’m worried what will happen after her list is complete. She might need a good blacksmith to put her back together.”

            Gendry just stood there, limp.

            “What are you waiting for? Wow, you really are a bull.”

            Gendry smiled, “that’s what your sister says.”

            “Well, don’t tell her I said this, but she is rarely wrong.”

            Gendry turned serious, “Thank you, Lady Stark.”

            “Sansa. Just, call me Sansa. You might not believe this, especially if she told you anything about me during your travels, but titles are much less important to me now. And try to have her stop by every once in a while.”

            “Yes, of course. Thank you, Sansa.”

            And with that, Gendry ran to the stables, planning his route. He’d been so daft, how could he think that was what she wanted? But it didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he get to her, find her. Tell her he loved her in a way that didn’t make her run. All that mattered was her.

 

~~~~

**Arya Stark**

            She could only watch as the Hound devoured his food. She supposed she wouldn’t look much better – she had no need for petty manners here, and they hadn’t had food this good since Winterfell, perhaps longer.

            She wondered what it said about her, the fact that she chose to stop by this inn every time she was on the King’s Road. It didn’t support the cold, emotionless assassin she had become. She was constantly torn between the two roles. Faceless Man, and Arya Stark.

            Either way, neither side of her was a Lady.

            Too often she found herself thinking of Gendry. She wondered if he had made it to Storm’s End yet. Did he have any help? Maybe, after all of this was over, Davos would go check on him, maybe help him. If she survived her next name, maybe she’d do the same. She’d wear a face, of course. It’d be too hard, otherwise.

            This was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. A title, a family. He could have that at Storm's End. And she couldn’t bring herself to ruin it with her hopes for them. It had been foolish to think they could ever be together, travel the world, see what exactly was West of Westeros. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her, even if he thought that he did. He wanted a proper lady, who could run his house. That would never be Arya.

            Frowning, Arya took a long, deep sip of her ale, and the Hound groaned.

            “You’re doin’ it again,” he growled.

            “What.”

            “Thinking about the bastard boy.”

            “What do you care?” Arya asked, defensive.

            “I couldn’t give two shits about it. But since you insist on traveling together, your moping makes you even worse company than normal.”

            “Then leave.”

            The Hound didn’t say anything. Both he and Arya knew that he would never do that. He cared too much, despite himself. Instead of answering, the Hound just took a deep drink of ale, and went back to his food.

            “Arry?!”

            “Oh, for fucks sake,” The Hound mumbled, finishing his food.

            “Arry! It is you! You came back!”

            “Hello, Hot Pie.” Arya smiled, small, but genuine, as he sat down.

            “And you brought him,” Hot Pie forced out, nodding to the Hound, a mangled half smile on his face.

            The Hound just grunted.

            “Arry! I can’t believe you came back! Did you make it to Winterfell? I hope ya did. You did always want to find that brother of yours. Can I ask – what's he like? King of the North? I've heard stories. He seems incredible. Nights Watch turned Lord Commander turned King of the North. Not a Knight though. Not like your friend here. You are a Knight, aren't ya?”

            The Hound stood up abruptly. “I can’t take this shit. Unless you want me to kill him,” he thumbed at Hot Pie, who paled considerably, “You can find me when you’re done.”

            Arya couldn’t blame him. She cared about Hot Pie, but he was an acquired taste.

            She watched the Hound make his way out of the inn, and then turned back to Hot Pie, who was staring at her, awed. “Whatchu doing here with ‘im?” he asked.

            “Similar goals.”

            Hot Pie remained frozen for a second, before nodding emphatically. He likely didn’t get it, but Hot Pie was not one to let that stop him. Hot Pie opened his mouth, ready to rant.

            “Gendry’s alive,” Arya all but blurted before she could get caught in another of Hot Pie’s long winded speeches.

            That was part of the reason she was here. As much as she cared about Hot Pie and Gendry, they cared about each other too. She felt obligated to inform Hot Pie of their friends survival.

            Hot Pie’s eyes had widened. “You saw ‘im then!? He’s okay? I worried when I saw you here alone – I never thought anything could get between the two of you.”

            Arya smiled, wistfully. “I saw him, back in Winterfell. Worked the forges for the Great War. Isn’t Gendry Waters though, not anymore. Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End.”

            “Gendry…. Baratheon?” Arya was concerned that Hot Pie couldn’t take any more news. He looked near fainting.

            “That’s why the Gold Cloaks wanted him. The Fat King’s last bastard.”

            Hot Pie shook his head in disbelief. “To think, I was traveling with the kids of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, and never knew. Who knows, maybe I’ll find out I’m a Targaryen, at this rate.”

            Arya smiled to herself, before taking another sip of ale.

            “Wait, why aren’t you together, then?

            Arya’s smiled slipped easily. She took a deep breath, considering her answer. “Life doesn’t always work out that way Hot Pie. I’m sure he’ll make a great Lord, it’s what he’s always wanted. But that’s who he is, this is what I am.”

            “That’s not what he wanted, you know that, ‘Arry. He wanted a family.” Hot Pie said, almost gently.

            She couldn’t do this. Arya stood, abruptly. “I need to get going. I’m sure there is a place for you in Storm’s End, if you wish. Otherwise, you can go to Winterfell. Tell Lady Stark I sent you. If she doesn’t believe you…. Tell her I said you make great lemon cakes.”

            Hot Pie looked flustered as Arya placed her hand on his shoulder. “It was good to see you, Hot Pie. I doubt it will happen again.”

            And with that, she left. She found the Hound near the horses, taking a piss. She said nothing, just mounted her horse and took off, trusting that he would follow.

~~~~

**Gendry Baratheon**

Gendry shouldn’t have been surprised that it was cold down south, too. The Winter takes place everywhere, not just up North, he mused as he pulled down his hood and waited to order.

            He ran a hand through his hair, which had grown longer on his journey. But he was almost there, now. He could only hope that he was actually catching up to Arya.

            Distracting himself, Gendry took in his surroundings. Not much had changed at the little inn since he had been here last. Gods, it felt like a lifetime ago, traveling with Hot Pie and the Brotherhood, with Arya.

            “Gendry?” he heard a voice say in disbelief, as if hearing his thoughts. Gendry turned to find Hot Pie, who stood by the entrance to the kitchen, a tray haphazardly discarded on a table besides him.

            Gendry smiled, real and big, the first since he began his travels.

            “Hot Pie?!” Gendry stood. “I didn’t know you were still here!”

            Hot Pie hurried over to Gendry, and hugged him. Gendry returned it, the joy of an unexpected reunion distracting him.

            “Next week and I won’t be. Heading North, soon.”

            “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I missed your cooking.”

            Hot Pie ducked his head, embarrassed at the compliment. Suddenly, it snapped back up, as Hot Pie remembered something.

            “Oh, should I be kneeling?!” Hot Pie jabbered. “Seeing as you're Lord Gendry Baratheon now?”

            The smile slipped from Gendry’s face.

            “Hot Pie, how did you know that?”

            Hot Pie looked at him, confused. “Arya told me, of course. She was here yesterday, maybe day before. Her and the big guy, with the burns.”

            “Arya was here?!” Gendry asked, incredulous.

            “Yea, of course.” Hot Pie puffed out his chest, a bit. “She likes the pie.”

            “Hot Pie, what did she say?” Gendry felt urgency pulsing through his veins. He was close, he was so close.

            “You know, it’s ‘Arry. She’s all mysterious like. She told me you were alive, and you’d become a lord. She seemed real proud of you. Said that this is what you’d always wanted. I told her she was being daft, all you wanted was a family. She left real quick after that. Told me I could go to Storm’s End or Winterfell if I wanted. Said that I’d probably never see her again.”

            Gendry’s mind was racing. After she killed Cersei, Arya would disappear forever. And he would never be able to find her.

            “Hot Pie, I’m going to need some food for the road, can you do that?” Gendry rushed.

            “Yea, of course – you’re going after her, aren’t you? You better go quick. She spoke quiet, all determined like. You know how she gets.”

            “Yea, I do. Thank you Hot Pie, really. It was good to see you.”

            “You too. Still can’t believe you’re a Baratheon. Life really is strange!” Hot Pie mused, going back to the kitchen to get Gendry’s food. But Gendry didn’t care. He had a goal, and he would find her, no matter what.

 

~~~~

 

**Arya Stark**

            Arya Stark felt empty. She felt aimless. She wanted to go through her names, a familiar comfort, but there were no more. The Mountain had died at the Hound’s hand, and brought his brother along with him. And Arya had killed Cersei.

            Arya Stark had no business left to do. She didn’t know how she could remain connected to who she used to be.

            So, she sat by a small pond of water, and cleaned Needle, just as she had seen her father do countless times before. It was a slow, methodical process that helped her pretend that she was still Arya Stark. Cleaning Needle was like no other time she had done so before, because now she had nowhere to be. She had no one to kill. She had nothing, really. She was No One.

            Arya was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize the presence behind her until he spoke.

            “Your sister is mad at you.”

            Right. Arya Stark had a sister. She had a sister, that was a connection she had.

            Despite the sluggish nature of her thoughts, Arya still whirled around, Needle drawn.

            Arya lowered her sword when part of her processed that it was Gendry. The rest of her had yet to catch up.

            Gendry must have realized that she wasn’t going to say anything, because he continued.

            “You left without saying goodbye. She thought you were closer than that by now.”

            “Sansa will get over it.” Arya said. She hoped it was true. She didn’t want her sister, Sansa, that was her name, mad at her for the rest of her life.

            Because Arya now had a rest of her life. There was an after to her list. She had more to do, whether she liked it or not.

            And then she looked up. And she really looked at Gendry.

            Because he was there. Gendry was there, for her.

            “Don’t you have a castle to run?”

            Gendry walked closer to her. “Nah, I’m not cut out for that. Plus, if I was a proper Lord, I wouldn’t be able to be in the forge. And I wouldn’t be able to be with you.”

            Arya looked at him, unusually timid. “Me?”

            “Of course, you. Do you think I cared about the castle, or the title? All I wanted was you. To be your family. I want to travel the world with you, love you, be with you. Who cares about the rest?”

            Arya searched his eyes, and in them she could see it all. They’d go to Braavos, and explore Valyria and Asshai and the far lands of the East. They’d discover what was West of Westeros.

            And suddenly Arya had a new list. Of places she wanted to see, to explore. She wanted to go everywhere, travel to the corners of the map. And she wanted to do it with Gendry, until they were too old to travel. And then they’d travel some more. Because she had no place to be, no one to kill.

            Slowly, Arya started to smile.

            “Gendry, have you ever wondered what is West of Westeros?”

            Gendry grinned back, relief coloring his face. “Actually, Arya, I have always been curious about what's West of Westeros."

            And Arya surged up, gripping his shirt in her hands, and kissed him. The kiss was messy, as they were smiling, their teeth knocked together. But they didn’t care. 

            Arya pulled back, breathing heavily. She put her hands on either side of his face, and drew his forehead to her own.

            “I love you, Gendry. Not Baratheon, not Waters. You.”

            Gendry pulled his head away, and smiled, brilliant and wide.

            “I love you, too, Arya Stark. Although, we are going to have to talk about you letting me think I was Gendry Rivers all this time.”

            Arya let her head fall back as she laughed, big and carefree, like she hadn’t done since before she left Winterfell the first time. When she stopped, she saw Gendry grinning at her.

            “Stupid Bull.” She smirked.

            “Milady.”

            “Oh, shut up,” she laughed, pulling him into kiss her again.

            They had all the time in the world to argue, for now, she didn’t want to think about the past, or the future. She just wanted to be with him.


End file.
